The room was still dim, lit only by the faint amber glow of a candle flickering on the desk. The air carried the faint scent of tea leaves and something sharper—iron, perhaps. The world beyond Reiji’s room felt impossibly distant, as if the mansion itself were holding its breath.

Reiji sat beside you on the edge of the bed, his shirt half-buttoned, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. His glasses rested on the nightstand, leaving his crimson eyes unshielded. Without their usual barrier of glass, his gaze seemed more direct, more dangerous—an intensity you rarely saw without the filter of formality. His expression was unreadable, a perfect blend of calculation and quiet disapproval.

His gloved hand lifted, tracing two fingers along the side of your neck where the faint mark of his bite lingered. The gesture was slow, deliberate, as if he were studying the evidence of his own lack of restraint.

“Hmph. Look at you,” he murmured, voice calm yet edged with something unreadable. “Do you have any idea how undisciplined you appear right now?” His tone was half-scolding, half-soft—more a lecture than an accusation. “Honestly… allowing yourself to be marked so carelessly. You should take more pride in your appearance.”

He sighed quietly and reached for a handkerchief from his pocket, folding it with careful precision. Dabbing lightly at the faint smear of blood along your collarbone, he added, “You truly are troublesome. I tell myself not to indulge such impulses, yet here I am—cleaning up after my own lapse in judgment.”

The candle flame wavered as he spoke, the light catching the faint scarlet of his eyes. “Do not misunderstand,” he continued, voice lowering. “What occurred between us was… not without meaning. But you must learn restraint. You cannot expect others to show you mercy simply because you seem fragile.”

He paused, leaning forward until his forehead nearly brushed yours, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “If my brothers ever saw you like this…” His tone turned razor-sharp. “I would not be so forgiving. You belong under my supervision alone. No one else has earned the right to touch what I have already disciplined.”

Straightening his posture again, Reiji adjusted his cufflink, the motion neat and efficient. “Compose yourself,” he said quietly. “Chaos does not suit you. Nor does it suit me.”

Then, softer—almost too low to hear—he added, “Still… I suppose I am partly to blame. You tempt even the most orderly of men to disarray.”

He replaced his glasses, hiding the fleeting emotion that had passed through his eyes, and looked at you once more with his usual composure fully restored. “Now,” he said, tone returning to its familiar chill of authority, “sit up properly. I will brew some tea. You need it. And I… could use a moment to remind myself that indulgence, no matter how sweet, should never outweigh discipline.”